Am I Heartless?
by stargazer0607
Summary: Sherlock needs to decide what's more important to him when John comes down with a cold.


_This was initially written as 3 drabbles using the prompts poke, pills, and heartless. I decided to turn it into a one-shot. Enjoy!_

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Still in his pyjama bottoms, t-shirt, and dressing gown, Sherlock bounded up the stairs to John's room in excitement. The tie of his dressing gown was trailing behind him like it was as excited as its owner. "John!" he exclaimed a few steps from the top. "John! Lestrade called with a case."

Upon reaching the second floor, he paused momentarily, being thrown by John's closed bedroom door when it was after noon. A second later, without bothering to knock, he swung it open. "Joh…" At what he saw, his mouth snapped shut before he could complete the name.

John was curled up in the middle of his bed under a pile of blankets, his back to the door. Just the top of his head was sticking out.

"John." Sherlock stepped into the room. "John?" When there was no response, he walked up to the side of the bed and peered at the back of John's head. He then poked him on the shoulder. When it didn't seem to awaken the doctor, he kept poking. "John. Wake up."

"Mmm," John finally replied, slowly turning to face the nuisance. He blinked a few times. "What d'you want Sh'lock?" he mumbled.

Sherlock noticed the tissue clutched in John's left hand, his pink tinged nostrils, and the nasal quality of his voice. With some of his previous excitement leaving him, Sherlock stepped back from the bed. "Nothing. Sorry I bothered you." His shoulders slightly drooping, he turned around and began walking to the door.

John coughed and cleared his throat, then sat up against the headboard. "Sherlock, you didn't poke me for nothing. What did you want?"

Pausing at the door, Sherlock turned around. He glanced at John, disheartened. "Nothing. Just…Lestrade finally called with a case. I know you were looking forward to one as much as I was, but I can handle it on my own."

"What are you talking about? Of course I was looking forward to a case. I still am. Let me just…" He stopped and brought the tissue in his hand up to his nose. " _hih'tchoo! Hih'tchhuh!"_

"Don't be ridiculous John." Sherlock walked over to the night stand, grabbed the box of tissues and set them to next John. "You are ill and are staying in bed."

"It's just a cold, Sherlock. I'll be okay. _HhhTCCHhh! Hih'tchhuh!"_ John grabbed a few more tissues from the box and blew his nose.

"As much as I want you to join me, I'm insisting you stay in bed. Besides, you'll contaminate the scene." He looked at John pointedly. "What would you tell me if our roles were reversed?"

In answer, John sunk down on his bed. "But you never listen to me."

With a smirk, Sherlock readjusted John's blankets. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back. If you need me for anything, just text."

John was momentarily stunned at Sherlock having adjusted his blankets, but recovered quickly. He closed his eyes and curled back into a ball. "Like you would leave a crime scene if I needed you for anything," he said quietly, thinking Sherlock was out of earshot.

A flash of hurt crossed Sherlock's face at John's comment. Without a word, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He was fully dressed and out of the flat less than 10 minutes later.

Sherlock was about to hail a cab outside of 221B, but something made him pause and look up to the flat. He then glanced at his mobile in his hand and looked up to the flat once again. After sending a few texts off to Lestrade, he looked up and down Baker Street. He knew every street and alley like the back of his hand, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember where the nearest Boots was located. Taking a chance, he headed south and smiled a minute later when he came upon the blue signage for the pharmacy.

Forty minutes later, after having found a Tesco a few minutes from Boots, he was back at 221B and heading up the stairs to John's room. He entered without knocking and headed straight to the unoccupied side of John's bed. He set the bags down that he was carrying and looked at John who was looking back at him with glassy eyes.

"I didn't think I was asleep that long. I know you're fast with your deductions, Sherlock, but you solved the case already?"

"John."

"How long did it take you?"

"John!"

John looked over at his alarm clock. "Not even an hour?"

" _John!_ "

John looked back to Sherlock in amazement then quickly ducked his head. " _Hih'tchoo! Hih'tchhuh!"_

"Bless you." Sherlock rummaged around in one of bags. "Ah hah!" He pulled out a box of tissues, ripped the top off and handed the box to John.

"Thank…you," John replied distractedly as he took the offered box and finally eyed the bags. "Did you go _shopping_?" He plucked a few tissues from the box and blew his nose, then sat up against the headboard.

Sherlock began emptying the bags as John watched on in astonishment as all the items were placed on his bed.

There was a decongestant nasal spray, a thermometer, throat lozenges, four different types of flu caplets, three different kinds of cold and flu tablets, a bottle of paracetamol, a bottle of cough syrup, a box of Lemsip, another box of tissues, two boxes of tea, three tins of soup, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of apple juice.

Almost everything Sherlock took out of the bags was something John would have bought himself. However, he couldn't take his eyes off all the boxes of cold and flu pills. He coughed harshly into a fist and then looked up to Sherlock. "Why did you buy seven different types of pills?"

In answer, Sherlock picked up the two empty bags and began rolling them up as small as he could get them, eyes focused on the bed.

"Sherlock?" John questioned, before once again reaching for the box of tissues. " _Hih'tchoo! Hih'tchhuh!"_

Feeling slightly awkward, Sherlock kept his head down, but glanced up at John. "I didn't want to get you the wrong pills. I don't know what you have, exactly, and I didn't want to take any chances," he confessed. "I wanted to be sure there was at least something you could use to get better. You can return what you don't need."

Though he felt absolutely miserable, John broke out into a wide smile.

"Let me see if I got this right, Sherlock. You solved the case and bought all this in an hour?" John asked, eyeing all the items on his bed.

"No case," Sherlock said distractedly as he opened one of the crumpled bags and put the tea, juice, bread and soup back inside.

"You said you had one." John then pointed to the items on the bed. "Sherlock, why did you buy this stuff instead of meeting Lestrade at the crime scene? You were going crazy waiting for a case."

Sherlock left the bag on the bed, walked to the window and looked out. "I have my reasons."

Realization struck John and he sighed. "You heard me as you left my room earlier didn't you? You heard me and it bothered you."

"Why should I care about what you say? Besides, it doesn't matter what I did or did not hear."

" _HhhTCCHhh! Hih'tchhuh!_ I didn't mean it, Sherlock. It was the illness talking."

"Don't be so stupid, John. It doesn't suit you. Your mind wouldn't have come up with that thought if you didn't believe it. Besides, it's true."

John raised an eyebrow as he stared at Sherlock's back. "Are you sure?" He then scrambled for more tissues. " _HhhTCCHhh! Hih'tchhuh!_ "

Sherlock turned around and faced John. " _Bless_ you! And yes, I'm sure. I'm always sure."

In response, John swept a hand over everything that Sherlock had purchased for him. "I don't think that's true. If it was, you wouldn't have gone to Boots and Tesco to purchase these things for me. You'd be at a crime scene and showing off right now." He gave Sherlock a small grin. "You can't hide it around me, Sherlock. You're not as heartless as you pretend to be. I know you care."

"I…" Sherlock looked at John and pressed his lips together. He scooped up the bag with the items from Tesco and left the room.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock returned to John's room with a bowl of soup, a glass of apple juice, and a very faint blush on his cheeks.


End file.
